


harlivy drabbles

by quoththenightwing



Category: DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, mentions of the sick abusive pasty ass clown who was harley's ex, oh also mentions of that asshole joke abusing harley but it's not really descriptive or graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-02-09 14:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12889722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quoththenightwing/pseuds/quoththenightwing
Summary: just short drabbles of harley and ivy because they're in loooove





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> this whole thing is just really self-indulgent lmao

If the Joker was a hurricane of wild eyes and deranged laughter, Ivy would easily be the birds quietly singing their song of lament amidst the sharp silence of ruin. 

And Harley? She would be the destruction and rubble He left behind, shattered and broken and jagged. Like a glass statuette the Joker had stole for her then smashed into pieces when he hurled it at her after. 

Being with the joker was like...existing in a haze of sweet sickly gas that would eat away at your skin like acid but give you a rush no drug could ever give you. 

By the time she noticed He had took away everything she used to be, had gouged out her colourful insides and turned her into some kind of submissive slave, he was already long gone. 

And sometimes, she missed him. She missed the adrenaline and the nights of unexpected adventure. It was like...her mind had blocked out the slaps and punches and cuts and cigarette burns and the endless lies. She wanted - no, needed - to believe that what she had with him was right, that they belonged with each other.

She was a fool. A helpless, love sick fool; but a fool nonetheless. 

After he finally left her for good, Harley never thought she would find intoxicating, suffocating love like she had with the Joker. And she was right. But she did find another kind of love, a warm, irenic, please-lord-let-this-last-forever type of love, which was unexpectedly so much more better. 

And she found that in none other than Pamela Isley's green heart.


	2. ii.

In Harley’s eyes, Ivy was undoubtedly the most beautiful creature she had ever set eyes upon. 

She loved how her fiery red hair would sway as she moved, like a real fire crackling and spitting out sparks of embers. She loved how when Ivy stood under the sunlight (drenched in it like the goddess she was), fascinating hues of auburn and crimson and copper would appear in her hair.

She loved her soft skin, so different from hers yet so similar. The colour was of course the largest distinction (one with jaditic green and one bleached chalk white), and while Harley’s skin were usually decorated with tattoos and scars and the like, Ivy’s had vines encircling her limbs, flower buds blooming underneath her fingernails and thorns embedded in her skin. But they were the same in the sense that they were different from everyone else. And she loved that; she loved how they could be comfortable together, peculiarities and all. 

She also loved Ivy’s scent. She always smelled like dewey grass and an undertone of fresh dirt, with just a faint trace of noxious belladonna. Harley loved that taking even a whiff of Ivy’s redolence could make her feel like she was curled up in her arms in their old apartment that overlooked the chaotic yet serene Gotham skyline. She loved how it reminded her of better days, days when she didn’t have to worry about getting abused or bruised, days when she could just be herself, Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel, a woman who loved her girlfriend.

Harley loved Ivy. She loved everything about her, inside and out. She loved how she could make her feel vulnerable and protected at the same time; she loved how caring for and depending on each other were like unspoken promises; and most importantly, she loved how she loved her back. 

She was unequivocally hopelessly in love with her. And it was good. It was really good.


	3. iii.

The thing about being a psychiatrist was that Harley had seen many dark dark things in people's minds. But it came with the job, so who was she to complain, right? 

In becoming Harley Quinn, Gotham City’s very own clown princess of crime, most people assumed that because she was psychotic now, she wouldn't be bothered much by those dark thoughts lurking in the people’s minds. 

And it didn't. In fact, she relished in the madness of the people. The human mind was - and had always been - fascinating to her. Digging up the darkness in people’s cores, learning what humans were capable of with no restraint on their minds...these were parts of the reason why she became a psychiatrist in the first place. 

Having a glimpse at their darknesses didn’t sway her, but her own darkness? Let’s just say they were, um, dark. 

Usually, Harley would distract herself - maybe blow something up or get in a car chase or go shopping with stolen credit cards - so she wouldn’t have time to see what her darkness (Him) did to her. So instead, they came in the form of nightmares. Cruel, unrelenting nightmares that would suffocate her in her sleep, stealing her breaths and making her choke on her screams. 

It used to be really bad; so bad that she did everything to make sure she wouldn’t fall back asleep. She forced herself to stay awake until sunrise, then the next sunrise, then the next. It chipped away at her, turned her into some kind of living cadaver. 

But everything changed when Ivy stepped into her life.

At first, Ivy helped by growing pots and pots of lavender, jasmine and rosemary in Harley’s bedroom, which worked; albeit not as much as after when they became more comfortable with each other and started sleeping together. Somehow, sleeping with their limbs tangled and their sighs on each other's skins helped Harley's insomnia immensely.

She remembered the first time both of them slept together in the same bed. Harley was having a nightmare of Him; she had forgotten about what exactly he was doing in her dream but she could never forget the feeling of dread and self-loathing and _oh-my-god-what-did-i-do-again-this-is-all-my-fault-he’s-angry-again-and-it’s-all-my-fault-oh-my-god._

Harley didn't know she was screaming, but Ivy did. She rushed past the flower pots and Harley's restless hyenas to her room. She shook her awake then hugged her, her gentle embrace so unlike his bone-crushing, skin-bruising ones. 

_It was just a dream_ , Ivy whispered over and over again onto Harley's forehead. _It was just a dream. He wasn't here. It was just a dream._

They stayed there like that; Harley with her hands tightly wounded around Ivy’s waist, sobbing silently in the crook of her neck while Ivy stroked Harley’s hair and pressed her lips to the top of her head.

 _Will you stay with me?_ Harley had mumbled, tired from the tears. 

_Yes._

_Forever?_

_Forever._

_Promise?_

_Always._

They lay down on the bed, still intertwined together. Ivy didn't sleep until she was sure Harley was completely asleep. But even then, she still worried that Harley would wake up again, screaming because of the things he had done to her. 

Ivy knew that she would never understand Harley’s darkness, that she would never truly comprehend why sometimes Harley’s eyes would glaze over when a certain song came up or why she would sometimes descend into total unadulterated madness and start murdering people or blowing things up. 

But Ivy knew that she loved Harley with all her heart, that she would sacrifice worlds for the girl in her arms. So what if she couldn't know her dark past? She knew what it did to Harley, and she knew how to save her from the darkness (or at least stand by her side while she saves herself from her darkness), so she was going to do it. 

Because she loved her. Always and forever. And she would do anything if it meant Harley would never have to suffer another sleepless night again.


	4. iv.

It was the little things.

It was the way Harley giggled every time she made a joke or pun she was proud of, how her baby blue eyes would sparkle. It was the way she danced around the kitchen in the break of dawn, her eyes closed and her arms swaying above her head like dangling vines. It was the way her tongue stuck out adorably whenever she’s immersed in planning a heist or a date or a break-in or a surprise. 

It was the way she kissed; the way she breathed; the way she loved. 

It was the little things. 

It was the way Ivy rolled her eyes bad pun after bad pun but smiled because Harley was laughing and the world just seemed brighter with sunshine pouring out of her lips. It was the way she sat on the kitchen island, completely spellbound by the woman before her who seemed to catch the rays of the first sunlights and made it her own. It was the way she would kiss her forehead then her nose then the lips with the tongue between them, how Harley would groan because now she’s distracted but that’s okay because it’s her Pam-a-lamb and she loved her so that’s a valid excuse.

It was the way she smiled; the way she lived; the way she loved. 

Especially the way she loved. The way _they_ loved each other. 

It was the little things that made them a little bit more perfect, and content, and happy. Sure they weren’t always perfect or content or happy, but sometimes what they had - each other and the little things they could provide - was enough.

Now, wasn’t that a wondrous thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit late but happy twentgayteen !!


	5. v.

Harley had a timeline in her head. Granted, she had an abundance of miscellanea stowed away in her head, but that timeline was important to her. Because that timeline illustrated her transition from the Harley before this - the Harley she became with Him - to the Harley now, the Harley she could become with Ivy.

To the civilians or the Bats, she may seem no different than the old Harley after she left Him, but she was. She did change. And at some times, she missed her old self. Sometimes while looking at news of Him blowing up a bank or going on another murder spree, she would catch herself feeling regret for leaving. Then she would beat herself up and go walk her hyenas, probably rob some jewellery stores, whatever she felt like at that time. 

She did want to change, though. That's the thing. Harley knew she could do better, and she did with Ivy, but sometimes there was this little voice in her head, shouting - among the other voices - that she should've stayed. 

She didn't like that voice, but she had never liked some of the other voices in her head anyway. 

In the aforementioned timeline, Harley could review her... metamorphosis. From when He was her everything, when He was Him - the King of whatever he desired, her drug, her owner. Then after a long while, He started to become him - the monster, with the sickening laughter like rubbing salt in her cuts, whose name was always spoken with venom and poison. 

The truth was, He was always him, but she had been too blind to see it. So she wasted a fraction of her life on him, thinking life couldn’t get any better. Well, it did. And she was wrong. 

Did the timeline define her? Of course not. Harley preferred to use other things in her mind to, like memories of her and Ivy, her family, maybe some of Selina, rarely ones of her teammates from Task Force X, but they were the ones that defined her, not him. 

It was true that he would always be a large part of her, whether she liked it or not; and she was okay with that. Well, trying to be okay with that. It was a work in progress. But all in all, Harley was happy. She truly was.

She was content with everything and everyone she had. Because she knew what she was doing now was the best she could do for herself now. And that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i know there's no ivy in this and yall are only here for harlivy so here's a double update


	6. vi.

In a world of freaks and clowns and bats, it was safe for Pamela Isley to say she fit right in. But there were times - not a lot, though just enough - when she could feel deep down, that she didn’t belong anywhere. 

Humans ostracize the minority, the ones who are different than the others. They feel threatened because they are not the same, so they squash and silent them. And if the oppressed was driven to become supervillains, well, the humans now had a legitimate excuse to hurt them. It was a win for the humans, though the same could not be said for their morality. 

But what would Pamela know about _humans_ and morals? She wasn’t human, and even when she was, she never cared for any of them. Plants were more reliable and less confusing, unlike humans.

If someone were to tell Pamela she would one day fall in love - starry-eyed, head over heels, the whole schtick - with a _human_ , she wouldn’t have believed it. Nor would she think that said human would fall in love with her. _Her_. She was _toxic_ ; her kiss was one of poison and her scent could send men to their deaths. She was a monster. 

Well, they said she was one (because she killed? Or because she was different?) so she became the monster they wanted her to be. She became danger; she became malevolence; she became _Poison Ivy_.

It wasn’t until she met Harley Quinn that she realized she wasn’t a monster. Not to Harley, anyway. Because a monster to Harley was greasy green hair and bleached skin and a too-wide smile with hidden daggers. Ivy wasn’t that. 

To Harley, Ivy wasn’t a monster or a villain or a freak (the bad kind, anyway); to her, she was just herself, a woman that Harley loved. And with her, Ivy felt...human. 

Why? Because Harley could touch her and kiss her without risking her life? Or was it perhaps something more - because Ivy felt warmth and happiness and love when she was around Harley?

Ivy remembered being human. She remembered being vulnerable and weak; she remembered constantly being a victim, and she hated it. But sometimes when she felt vulnerably human with Harley, she found herself actually liking it. Because the kind of vulnerable she felt now around Harley was nothing she felt then. 

Before, it was all clenched fists and darting eyes and frightened tears; but now, it’s warm sparks tickling her skin, eyes blinking slowly, smiling drowsily at _her_. Ivy liked this kind of vulnerable, because she trusted Harley and she knew Harley trusted her; she knew they would protect each other, look out for each other. So with Harley, she could feel as vulnerable as she wanted to, without actually being vulnerable, if that made sense. With Harley, she didn’t have to worry about anything, she didn’t have to put on a costume of someone she was expected to be, and she was never expected to fight. 

With Harley, she could experience the good parts of being human, something she wasn’t even sure existed before. And she liked it. She liked it very much.


	7. vii.

“What would you do if you have everything you ever wanted?” 

Trust Harley to ask these kind of questions at 4 AM.

Ivy turned on her side to face her, making both of them more tangled up in the bed sheets than they already were. “I don’t know. I suppose I wouldn’t have anything to do if I already have everything I want.”

“Hmm...inch resting…Why not strive for bigger goals? Aim to own everything in the world?” 

Ivy tapped her girlfriend’s nose. “But I’ll already have everything I want. If I still want to have everything in the world, then it means I don’t have _everything_ I want. Does that make sense?” 

Harley just hummed, deep in thought. She snuggled closer to Ivy, scrunching her nose as the red-head’s hair tickled her face. 

“Why did you ask?” Ivy enquired, playing idly with the tips of Harley’s hair. 

“Well, sometimes I feel like that. Like I have everything I ever wanted.” Harley shifted so she could meet her girlfriend’s gaze. “I feel...so happy.” She said the last word like it was foreign, like she was unsure of it, testing it out. 

Ivy’s heart softened. She reached out to squeeze Harley in a tight embrace, drawing out an ‘oof’ from the blonde. 

“You deserve it,” she murmured. “Maybe I’m being biased because you’re my girlfriend and I love you very very much, but you deserve that happiness.” 

Ivy expected a ‘aww, Pam-a-lamb’ or some variation of ‘well, I love you more so suck it’ but Harley was unusually quiet. At last, she mumbled, “...but whenever I feel actually happy, I just….get so scared that someone’s gonna ruin it.” Harley burrowed her face deeper into Ivy’s neck. “That someone’s gonna ruin us.” 

“Oh, Harls.” Ivy breathed. She shifted so they faced each other; Harley with her watery eyes and Ivy with her somber ones. 

Ivy kissed her; first her forehead then the tip of her nose then the corner of her eyes then her cheeks then her lips. 

“I won't let anyone ruin us,” she murmured against Harley’s skin. “I'll kill them before they get the chance.”

Harley broke into a small smile. “Aww, babe.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for more drabbles / short stories with actual actual plot in them babey. coming to you in like twenty years.


End file.
